Chapter 3 - The Snake at the Table
The weekly council meeting of the Costello family was traditionally held in the formal dining room of the estate every Thursday afternoon. It was a tradition Luca had maintained even after his paralysis, a way to project an illusion of authority over the men who ran his streets.
At 2:00 PM, the heavy oak doors opened, and six men stepped into the room.
At the head of the group was Dominic Reyes. He was a tall, handsome man in his late forties, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a silk pocket square. He carried himself with the supreme confidence of a predator who believed he was surrounded by sheep.
"Luca, my brother," Dominic called out warmly, stepping forward to clap a hand onto Luca’s shoulder. "You're looking a bit pale today. Are you taking care of yourself?"
Luca sat at the head of the table in his wheelchair, his lap covered by a dark cashmere blanket to hide the subtle twitching in his legs.
"I am as well as can be expected, Dominic," Luca said, his voice weak, laced with a practiced raspy fatigue. "The weather is changing. My legs carry a heavy chill."
"Ah, tragic," Dominic sighed, shaking his head with practiced sympathy as he took his seat at Luca’s right hand. "Dr. Vance mentioned to me last week that your neural degradation might be entering a final phase. We must prepare ourselves for the inevitable, Luca. The family needs stability."
Luca watched Dominic’s face closely, noticing the faint, triumphant gleam in the underboss's eyes. You think Vance is still updating you, Luca thought. You don't know he's forty feet below us in a concrete cell.
"The family is stable as long as I breathe, Dominic," Luca said softly.
Dominic smiled, a thin, predatory expression. "Of course, boss. But the street captains are getting restless. The Moretti family is pressing hard on the eastern docks. They sense... weakness. They know you haven't left this estate in three years."
"The Morettis know their place," Luca replied flatly. "If they cross the river, we eliminate them."
"With all due respect, Luca," another captain, Frankie "The Hammer" Valli, chimed in from down the table, "Dominic is right. We need a leader who can be seen on the streets. A leader who stands tall, not someone hiding behind high walls."
The room grew tense. In the old days, a captain speaking to Luca Costello with such disrespect would have been executed before he reached the parking lot. Now, Frankie looked at Luca with open condescension, confident that the crippled boss had no teeth left.
Luca slowly turned his head to look at Frankie. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't slam his fist. He simply held Frankie’s gaze with an icy, unblinking intensity that had once made hardened hitmen tremble.
"Frankie," Luca said quietly. "Do you remember 2012? The warehouse in Cicero?"
Frankie blinked, his confident smirk wavering slightly. "What about it?"
"You made a mistake that night," Luca continued smoothly. "You lost three shipments of cocaine to the federal task force. I stood in that warehouse, looked you in the eye, and spared your life because your father had died for this family. I gave you a second chance."
Luca leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Do not confuse my physical limitations with a lack of memory. Or a lack of reach."
Frankie swallowed hard, suddenly shifting uncomfortably in his seat, looking to Dominic for support.
Dominic quickly stepped in, raising his hands pacifically. "Alright, alright. We are all brothers here. Frankie meant no disrespect, Luca. We are all just concerned for the future of the empire."
Dominic leaned closer to Luca, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "In fact, Luca, I was thinking... perhaps it is time we formalize the transfer of power. A signing ceremony next week. You retain your title as Capo di Tutti Capi, your estate, your income... but you grant me full executive authority over the land deeds and financial reserves. It would relieve you of this terrible burden."
There it is, Luca thought. The final play.
Dominic didn't just want control; he wanted legal ownership of the Costello private reserves—the multi-billion-dollar trust that funded the entire empire. He needed Luca’s official signature on the trust transfer documents before he could eliminate him permanently. Without that signature, the trust would automatically lock upon Luca's death, freezing all assets for twenty years under a blind corporate shield.
Luca played his part perfectly. He closed his eyes, leaning back into his chair as if the conversation had drained the last of his energy.
"Next week..." Luca murmured, sounding defeated. "Perhaps... perhaps you are right, Dominic. I am tired. Bring the documents next Thursday."
Dominic’s eyes lit up with absolute, unfiltered victory. He stood up immediately, buttoning his suit jacket.
"You are making a wise decision, Luca," Dominic said, bowing his head in mock respect. "Rest now. I will handle the Morettis. I will handle everything."
As the captains filed out of the room, Dominic paused near the doorway, catching the eye of a junior guard stationed near the hall—a guard who was secretly on Dominic’s payroll. Dominic gave a faint, satisfied nod before leaving the house.
When the heavy oak doors finally closed, the defeated, weary expression on Luca’s face vanished instantly.
He reached down, grabbed the cashmere blanket, and pulled it off his legs.
With a low grunt of effort, Luca gripped the edge of the mahogany table. His muscles strained, the burning sensation in his thighs roaring to life like a furnace. Slowly, agonizingly, but with absolute, unyielding determination—
Luca Costello stood up.
He swayed slightly, his knees shaking under the unaccustomed weight, but he stood. He was six-foot-two, towering over the empty chairs at the table.
Marcus stepped out from behind the curtain, holding a heavy iron cane.
"He took the bait, boss," Marcus said, a dark grin spreading across his face.
May you like
Luca took the cane, his grip tightening around the silver handle until his knuckles turned white. He took one solid, heavy step forward on his own two feet.
"Next Thursday, Dominic comes to take my crown," Luca said, his voice echoing through the grand hall like a death knell. "Make sure the grave is already dug."
